20.2.09

It Starts Out Bad

It nears midnight here. This morning I woke up feeling like a piece of glass had been forced down my throat. It was as if someone had broken a beer bottle and took the ragged piece that was the neck, pried open my mouth and forced it in. Then they pushed. Heel of their hand forcing it deeper. I can feel it ripping through vocal chords.

I did not want to go to work. It seemed pointless. I can't do the job as well as I'd like to because there is just too much to do. Can't quit right now. Can't sell a manuscript. Stuck. The economy does not like job seekers at the moment, and the retirement can work out well for me and whatever remnants of my family I shall have.

Relatives are in town. Having an awkward dinner tomorrow night (tonight by the time I post) that everyone says I should not attend. They tell me I'm handling the divorce fine, but that I'm torturing myself. Maybe so, but I get so little time with my girl that I can't picture being away from her.

So I trudge through work, and it gets worse by the minute. I have lunch with a friend and we talk. We talk about her man, The Girl, Nikki, my soon-to-be-ex-wife, my daughter, life, love and sex. It helped, but didn't make work any better.

I grind through the day, feeling like my brain has live electrical wires jammed into it. Trying to get to the next hour without throwing my hands up in disgust and walking out.

Five comes, but I talk to another friend. Discuss the futility of it all. The mind-numbing insanity that we get paid for. Forty minutes later I'm out of there. I'm hoping the place burns down.

I go home. Call my daughter. Wish she were with me.

This day ... it starts out bad ... it gets better.

To talk about what changed it would be to destroy the magic. It would somehow cheapen it. It would make it less real.

Some things feel right. Like they were meant to happen. Some things seem impossible, but they work out. Some things work. My fate became a bit clearer. The fog cleared, and I saw what I could be possible.